a letter,' she said, 'which had been addressed to her by Victor
Colonne.' She remembered receiving it; but by what means it came to be
applied to its present purpose, she did not at all know. M. Morelle
sternly bade her tell the truth, and conceal nothing; it would be better
for her. In great agony, she earnestly reiterated what she had said. It
was useless; the evidence against her was too strong to be shaken by
merely her own denial. Moreover, the commissaire of police, in
delivering his evidence, laid much emphasis upon the embarrassment and
distress she had evinced whilst he was searching the little basket in
which the articles were found.

The case was on the point of being decided against her, when, by what
may be termed a providential interposition, the tables were suddenly
turned, and she was rescued from the jail, from infamy, and perhaps from
death! A young girl, one of the domestics at the château, having
examined the portion of the letter which formed a link in the
circumstantial evidence, produced from her pocket another fragment,
which exactly fitted to the first, and made the letter complete! With
much curiosity, and indeed excitement, all listened eagerly to what she
had to say. She stated that the fragment she produced, which formed the
remainder of the torn letter wrapped round the stolen articles, she had
picked up in the garden of the château, where it had been dropped by
Victor. Julia's reticule had been left on a seat under a tree; the
witness saw Victor open it, and take out a letter. He did not know she
was at hand; indeed, could not see her. He tore the letter into two
pieces: he appeared agitated. One piece of the letter dropped to the
ground, the other he did something with which she could not perceive,
and replaced in the reticule. When he was gone, she picked up the
fragment which had fallen; and seeing it was part of a love-letter, full
of warm protests, &c. she put it into her pocket, intending, she said,